


Ship It Real Good

by Yuripaws



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Love at First Sight, M/M, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Viktor is an idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-04 17:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10995984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuripaws/pseuds/Yuripaws
Summary: Yuuri is a cute clerk at a post office and Viktor will come up with any excuse to see him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授權翻譯】Ship It Real Good by Yuripaws](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11417349) by [inoripooh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inoripooh/pseuds/inoripooh)



> Look.
> 
> I'm an idiot and I pulled this idea out of my ass. Shout out to my Twitter mutuals for adding onto this disaster and enabling me.
> 
> Also??? I don't know what the fuck actually happens INSIDE a post office. It's a mystery.

“Next.”

Viktor inches forward as the line slowly trudges along. He’s been here for almost twenty minutes, and at this point he’s considering just flying to Russia to hand Yakov his gift in person. He always sends gifts whenever his agent manages to book him acting gigs. He hopes they’ll stop the old man from screaming at him so often.

He’d been in a rush earlier, shoving the gift into a mailer and heading over to drop it off at one of the outside mailboxes at the post office, and had one foot out of his car door before realizing that he hadn’t printed any postage. He hadn’t even weighed it.

He shuffles forward another inch. Yes, he deserves this. He can hear Yakov laughing in the distance.

Viktor’s nearly at the front of the line now, eyes glued to his phone, tapping away, complaining about his miserable day on Twitter to his adoring fans. He’s in the middle of typing when he realizes that someone is calling to him.

“Next? Sir?”

Viktor’s eyes are still on his phone as he approaches the clerk’s desk, and as he hefts his package onto it, he finally looks up and freezes. A new clerk has taken the place of the previous one without Viktor even noticing.

“How can I help you today, sir?”

Viktor gapes at him stupidly. He feels trapped in place by warm brown eyes, and he forgets how to speak for a moment.

“I-uh, I have something. To deliver. Uh, I mean, to ship.”

The clerk adjusts his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose, and Viktor nearly dies. This man is too cute to be real. He wonders if he had actually died in line, and this is what now awaits him at the pearly gates of heaven. He’s never been more excited for death in his entire life.

The man is speaking to him, taking the package and weighing it, talking about international fees, but Viktor’s brain can only process how soft his black hair looks, and he imagines how it would feel between his fingers.

“Sir?”

“Me? Uh, yes?” Viktor wonders how the hell he can act on stage before a crowd but sputter like a middle-schooler giving his first PowerPoint presentation in front of this man.

“How will you be paying today, sir? Card or check?”

Viktor fumbles for his wallet, nearly dropping his phone, and hands his credit card to the clerk. As his payment is processed, Viktor tries his best to sound cool and composed, flipping his silvery hair out of his eyes.

“So. I haven’t seen you here before. What’s your name?”

Viktor realizes two things too late. The first thing he realizes is that he’s never even been inside this post office before. The second thing he realizes is that the clerk is wearing a name tag.

“My name’s Yuuri Katsuki. I, uh, I’ve been working here for almost a year now.”

“Right." Viktor hopes his laugh sounds casual, because he’s screaming internally. He has been for the past minute. And that minute seems to last an eternity.

Yuuri hands him back his card and a receipt, smiling as he puts his package aside. Viktor wonders if wars have ever been fought over that smile, and if they hadn’t, he would like to start one.

“Have a good day, sir.”

“Yeah. I-uh... you, too.”

Viktor leaves through the automatic sliding gates of heaven and feels as though he’s been cast down into hell.

*

Viktor arrives three days later with a box to ship. He had thought that two days would be too desperate, but four would make him seem uninterested and emotionally unavailable.

His relief is so strong that he nearly faints when he sees that Yuuri is at his desk today. His hands tremble as he steps in line, and he grips the box tighter. He honestly has no idea what’s inside it. He had grabbed the nearest object, shoved it into one of the boxes he’s now stockpiling, and had raced over.

Whatever it is, he hopes that Yakov will like it.

He tries not to stare at Yuuri as he makes his way through the line. He casts casual looks around, pretending he’s looking at anything in this room that isn’t Yuuri. His gaze just so happens to so very casually pass over the clerk, and he freezes, because Yuuri is looking in his direction, and when their eyes meet, the clerk smiles politely at him. Viktor wants that smile to be the last thing he sees when he dies.

“Hello, sir,” Yuuri says cheerfully as Viktor hands him his box, “purchasing postage again today?”

The fact that Yuuri remembers him nearly sends him into cardiac arrest.

“Yes!” he says, a bit too loudly. “I have a package. For you. I-I mean, a package to send.”

Viktor zones out again throughout the entire process, handing him his card absently when his payment is due. He has nice eyelashes, Viktor decides. And a cute nose. He feels himself slowly growing hysterical, because he has never wanted to fuck the life out of a man just because his nose is nicely shaped. What the hell is wrong with him?

Yuuri bids him a good day, and that’s the end of it, because he turns to call out to the next person in line. Viktor lingers for half a second. ‘I am in love with you and I bet our children would have nice eyelashes,’ he nearly blurts out. 

When he leaves this time, he feels determined. He has to find a way to keep coming back.

*

Yakov is screaming. Again. His voice bursts from Viktor’s phone so clearly that he can nearly feel the spit flying from his mouth.

“Nikiforov, why in the _hell_ did you send me a _single_ shoe? Is this a joke? Don’t waste my time!”

“Don’t worry,” Viktor assures him, “I’ll send the other one next week.”

And so he did. And he sent another pair, two sizes too small. He had also sent him a few old shirts, several dusty books he had never seen in his life, a framed and autographed photo of himself, a few of Makkachin’s worn and chewed up toys, and individual rolls of toilet paper. Those were a good idea, because a pack of six had gotten him far.

In fact, he’s on his way right now to deliver the final roll, and as he pulls up to the post office, he realizes that in his excited and anticipated haze, he’s forgotten it back at his apartment. And he doesn’t have time to go back, as the office would close soon.  _Shit._

There’s a conveniently placed Walgreens nearby, and he races to buy a box of envelopes, a strip of stamps, and a card he had grabbed at random. He sees now that it’s a card celebrating retirement. He’s not looking forward to Yakov’s next call.

He bursts into the post office now, trying to appear as though his life hasn’t been falling apart the past few weeks. He sees an elderly woman look away, frightened. Nailed it.

“Next in line, please.”

The voice of an angel rings out, and Viktor wants to go to it, but there are at least five other people in front of him. The nerve of them. Viktor’s on a mission, and they’re ruining it.

He ignores another clerk calling out the next in line, letting the person behind him pass. Yuuri notices this, and his smile has just the smallest hint of something that makes Viktor want to fall at his feet.

“Hello, Mr. Nikiforov. No box today?”

“I-uh, no. I... ran out. Of boxes.” Viktor tries to say this as though the entire building they’re in does not currently offer boxes to be purchased.

Yuuri nods slowly, reaching for the envelope, then pauses. Viktor’s heart begins to race.

“Um, sir-”

“You can call me Viktor,” Viktor blurts out, and Yuuri looks surprised at his outburst. But he nods again, and continues the sentence that Viktor had so rudely interrupted.

“Well, Viktor,” Yuuri starts, and Viktor’s knees weaken at the sound of his name on the lips of this ethereal being, “this envelope is already paid for.” He indicates the stamp that Viktor had slapped onto it. Viktor stares at it. _What?_

“Uh...what?” he says very smoothly.

Yuuri’s smile is as polite as ever, but there’s a teasing laughter in his eyes that makes Viktor’s soul leave his body.

“Well, you could have just put this in one of the mailboxes outside instead of waiting in line.”

“But I want to put it in _your_ mailbox,” Viktor blurts again, and he feels his insides curl up and die as Yuuri’s eyes widen slightly, and Viktor swears he can see the color start to rise in his cheeks.

“Um, sir?” Yuuri is most definitely blushing now, and Viktor scrambles to say something that isn’t stupid. This doesn’t leave him with many options.

“I’m sorry, I meant to say that I want to give it to you. I mean, to a clerk. It feels... safer?”

“Safer,” Yuuri repeats slowly, looking confused, and Viktor starts devising an escape plan. There’s no time to scrape up his dignity from where it has shattered on the clean tiled floor.

“Well, I trust you to keep it safe. It’s very important. Bye!”

He rushes out before Yuuri can say a word.

*

Viktor takes a deep and steadying breath as he parks outside of the post office. He has an actual box this time. It’s filled with cereal boxes. There’s no cereal, because Viktor has eaten it. He hopes Yakov won’t take it personally.

Alright. He won’t fuck it up today. He’s been rehearsing lines in his head, the way he does before a show, or before going on set. Yes, he can do this. Maybe he’ll even get Yuuri’s number this time.

He steps towards the doors, but they don’t open. He frowns, stepping closer. Is the sensor broken? He squints through the glass. The office is empty. Viktor’s heart drops as he grabs his phone to check the date.

It’s Sunday. The post office is closed.

He leans his forehead against the glass, groaning loudly. No, this is hopeless. He’s had so many chances to woo and impress Yuuri, and he’s failed. It must be a sign. He can’t ever return to this office again.

“Mr. Nikiforov?”

Viktor freezes, his heart freezing as well. He spins around, still clutching his box desperately.

Yuuri has just gotten out of his car, and as he approaches, Viktor sees a package under one arm.

“Are you alright?”

“I-I, uh...” Viktor stutters, “I’m fine, yes. Absolutely.”

Yuuri is dressed casually, looking much different than he usually does in his crisp white button-down shirt and dress slacks. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and Viktor wants to see him dressed like this as they lounge in his apartment, cuddling and watching Netflix. _God,_ he’s pathetic.

“S-so, what are you doing here? The office is closed, right?”

“Well, my postage is paid for,” Yuuri says, indicating the large label on his package. It’s a large package as well. Viktor shivers. “It’s a care package. For my family back in Japan.” What an angel, sending gifts to his family. Viktor wants to send gifts to Yuuri’s family, too. He wants to be in that family.

Yuuri drops off his package into the mailbox outside, then raises his eyebrow at Viktor’s box, devoid of any label or postage. Viktor is too busy planning their wedding to notice.

“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to send that out. Or buy postage online. You can print them out, you know.”

Viktor flounders wildly for a reply. He doesn’t have a printer, his printer has exploded, he’s left his printer back in the Motherland, he’s never even heard of a printer. Yuuri frowns at him, clearly confused by his silence.

“Well, goodbye.” Yuuri starts to head back to his car, and Viktor finds his voice again.

“Wait! I mean-um...” he balks for a moment, because Yuuri’s eyes are on him, warm and bright, and he can see the teasing look behind his glasses again. Viktor sighs, defeated. This has gone on long enough. He’ll try his best, and flee the country if it doesn’t work out.

“I came here to see you, actually.”

Yuuri blinks at him. “To see... me?”

“Yes,” Viktor says firmly, “I wanted to see you. That’s why I keep coming here.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says softly, looking at the box still clutched in Viktor’s hands, “I thought you-”

“The boxes don’t matter,” Viktor says quickly. He stuffs his into the trash receptacle next to him, and Yuuri’s eyes widen in surprise. “It was never about the boxes,” Viktor continues, trying to keep his nerves steady, “I just... I wanted to see you. And I don’t know how else to see you.”

Yuuri stares at him. There’s an awkward silence, and Viktor starts mentally calculating the cost of a one-way ticket back to Russia.

“Well,” Yuuri starts, and Viktor’s heart races when he sees that he’s blushing, “you can see me now. I mean, if you’d like-”

“Yes!” Viktor says much too quickly, and Yuuri smiles. The smile that had launched a thousand ships. Viktor is already composing an epic poem in his honor.

“We could go somewhere for lunch, if you want?”

“Yes, of course, absolutely, anywhere you want,” Viktor breathes.

“Alright, then," Yuuri laughs, beckoning him towards his car, "follow me, Mr. Nikiforov.”

Viktor feels himself being led into heaven again, and he grins, counting his blessings as he follows.

“You can call me Viktor.”


	2. Bonus: First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Uh. I really wanted to write their first kiss. So I did.
> 
> I didn't mean for this to be longer than a oneshot, OOPS. This has like nothing to do with anything post office related, this is just shameless fluff. Ish.
> 
> I might... do a third chapter... for another first of theirs...

Viktor checks his phone for what seems like the thousandth time. He’s panicking. He’s pacing back and forth in his apartment, his mind racing and his hands shaking. Makkachin follows him happily, and Viktor nearly trips over him a few times. He doesn’t mind. He’d love to crack his head on the floor and die.

His apartment isn’t nearly clean enough, or nice enough, or anything enough, and he keeps fidgeting with things; moving the sofa two inches to the left, checking the dinner cooking on the stove, cleaning the already sparkling bathroom mirrors, dusting the shelves, moving the sofa two inches to the right, and shoving Makkachin’s toys back into the corner. Makkachin keeps grabbing his favorite one to bring to him, and Viktor doesn’t have the heart to put it away again.

He faces himself in the mirror now, running his fingers through his hair nervously. It looks too nice now, and he tousles it gently. He needs to be slightly disheveled, in a casual and sexy way. No, that’s _too_ casual. He tries again. Perfect.

He’s in the middle of brushing his teeth for the fourth time in the past half an hour when his phone vibrates. He snatches it up from the counter, and the three-worded text message makes his heart stop.

_On my way!_

Shit. Fuck. Shitting _fuck._

Yuuri is coming to his apartment for the first time, and Viktor is panicking, because he’s never had to prepare his home for a literal angel to descend into it before. What the hell is he supposed to do?

“I want to die,” he informs Makkachin. Makkachin gives him what Viktor hopes is a sympathetic look.

There isn’t much he can do now but sit on the sofa and fidget uncomfortably for the next ten minutes. So he does.

He jumps when his phone buzzes again, and is almost too terrified to read the message.

_Just parked. Coming up now! (＾∇＾)_

Yuuri likes to send him these cute little emoticons, and Viktor almost cries whenever he does. How can this man be so cute?

Viktor takes a deep breath. He has to stay calm. This isn’t the first time he’d be alone with Yuuri. They had met up a few times over the course of maybe two or three weeks ever since the day Viktor had stupidly blurted out his feelings in front of the post office. Viktor is too terrified to think of those meetings as dates.

Yuuri has just gotten out of work, and now he’s here, and Viktor nearly trips over Makkachin again as he races to open the door. He’s not ready for what greets him when he does.

“Hi!”

Yuuri is grinning at him, and Viktor is in denial that he’s happy to see him, because there’s no possible way that life could be so kind to him. He stares stupidly, because Yuuri is still in his work clothes, and he cuts a fine figure in his white button down and black slacks. His black tie is perfect and neat, and Viktor suppresses the sudden and insane urge to grab it and yank him forward.

“Hey!” he says, hoping his voice hasn’t cracked. He moves aside to let him in, and tries not to faint as he passes, because he smells of some sort of cologne that nearly has Viktor’s head rolling.

“Wow,” Yuuri says softly, looking around, “this is a really nice place!”

Viktor can’t really deny that. He has the money for an apartment like this, but it still isn’t good enough for Yuuri to step foot into. No place ever would be.

“Thanks, uh, I’m glad you like it?” He hopes that doesn’t sound stupid. But then again, everything he says around Yuuri sounds stupid to him. Yuuri stoops down to pet Makkachin, laughing as the large poodle nearly bowls him over, and Viktor suddenly notices that Yuuri is carrying a small backpack with him. Yuuri turns to him with an apologetic grin, still ruffling the dog’s fur.

“Sorry, I got held up at work. I didn’t wanna stop back home to change and be late. But, uh,” he hefts the bag for emphasis, “I always keep spare clothes in the car. Mind if I change?”

Viktor is stunned for a moment, because the idea of an undressed Yuuri anywhere within a five miles radius is absolutely mind-blowing.

“Yes! Of course! The bathroom is down the hall, the first door on the left.” He wants to add that his bedroom is the door on the right, but he stops himself.

He has about half a minute to continue panicking, and he scrambles to the kitchen now, checking the dishes he had kept warming on the stove. He had cooked dinner for them, and prays that Yuuri would be impressed. His heart races when he hears the bathroom door open.

He once again finds that he isn’t ready for Yuuri’s presence, because the T-shirt he’s wearing is just tight enough to hug his chest and arms in a way that makes his muscles stand out a bit. And his ass looks fantastic in those jeans. Viktor tries to keep his soul tethered so it doesn’t ascend into the sun.

“You look great,” he bursts out with suddenly, and Yuuri blushes. Oh _GOD._

“Thanks, so do you,” Yuuri says, smiling shyly at him. Viktor wants to die. “Oh,” he adds, “something smells great. Did you cook?”

“Er, yeah!” Viktor’s heart pounds as Yuuri comes over, looking at the stove curiously. He pauses, eyes widening a bit, then turns to beam at him. Viktor tries to stop himself from collapsing.

“Viktor! You learned how to make katsudon? That’s my favorite!”

Viktor watches him nervously out of the corner of his eye as Yuuri tries it, and his heart nearly gives way when Yuuri’s eyes light up.

“Oh! This is great! You know, not a lot of places I’ve been to here can get it quite right, but yours is really good!”

Viktor feels a warmth spread throughout him, and he smiles a bit easier as they eat. Yuuri tells him about the different kinds of foods he liked to eat back in Japan, and Viktor hangs onto every word, vowing to learn the recipes. Every time Yuuri shares something about himself, Viktor does his best to remember.

Makkachin comes around, snuffing and sniffing at them, and Viktor is about to apologize when Yuuri laughs and pats Makkachin’s head fondly.

“I have a poodle just like him way back home. His name,” he pauses slightly, then grins, “is Vicchan. It means ‘victory.’ Sort of.”

Viktor wants to fly to Japan this very instant to make sure Yuuri’s dog likes him, because it’s a known fact that you can’t date someone if their dog doesn’t approve.

Viktor is relieved to find that they can chat comfortably, with shorter and shorter awkward silences as the days go by. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes, and Viktor already feels like Yuuri belongs here. Like he’s home. God, why is he _still_ so pathetic?

“So. Do you want to watch something?” Viktor tries to phrase this carefully, so that it doesn’t come off as ‘Do you want to have a movie playing in the background while we fuck?’ He would definitely not object to the idea, though.

Yuuri is soon flipping through the list of movies and shows on Netflix, and Viktor is silently fretting beside him on the sofa. How close should he sit to him? How many inches is too much? Too little? What if he’s an inch off, and Yuuri thinks he’s breaking up with him to move back to Russia and never write to him?

Yuuri seems to settle that matter, because after he decides what to put on, he leans back against the sofa, and he’s close enough for their shoulders to brush. Viktor wants to tell him that his shoulder feels great, and that he’s sure the rest of him would feel great, too. He’s once again glad that he’s able to stop himself.

The movie Yuuri’s chosen is one of Viktor’s favorites, and he’s grateful that they both have such good taste, But he can’t focus. Yuuri seems to be enjoying himself, but Viktor is still fretting. He’s too afraid to move and too afraid to say anything. Yuuri’s so close, just enough to keep brushing up against him, and the smell of his cologne still has Viktor dizzy. He can feel the heat radiating from him in waves, and when Yuuri moves his knee slightly to press against his, the added heat nearly makes Viktor melt.

God, what is he supposed to do? He shoots Yuuri nervous glances out of the corner of his eye, but Yuuri doesn’t seem to notice. Viktor tries not to stare for too long. He still thinks that Yuuri has nice eyelashes, from what he can see under the glare of his glasses. They glint suddenly as Yuuri turns to glance at him. Viktor freezes. _Shit._

Yuuri doesn’t say anything, but Viktor can see the familiar teasing look in his eyes. He turns back to face the screen, but he leans slightly against him. Viktor is still frozen. Yuuri settles against him comfortably, as though Viktor isn’t currently rigid and terrified. Yuuri is so warm, and Viktor can feel himself heating up far too fast.

Viktor’s in the middle of taking a deep and relaxing breath when Yuuri leans his head against his shoulder. Viktor coughs hard, and Yuuri jumps back a bit.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Viktor chokes, not sounding very convincing. Yuuri doesn’t lean back again, and Viktor feels cold and empty. He has to do something. Anything. Just _do_ something, you coward. Stage fright is for understudies.

He cautiously raises an arm to rest on the back of the sofa behind Yuuri’s head. He feels stupid, because this is what every stereotypical teenage boy does to his crush in a movie theater, but he’s running out of options at this point. At least he didn’t fake a yawn to do it.

Yuuri doesn’t react, and after a while Viktor’s arm grows as tired as his dignity, but right as he’s going to withdraw it, Yuuri leans against him again. Viktor’s heart stops as he feels Yuuri’s warmth again, and his scent is so close again, so intoxicating. Viktor shivers, and Yuuri seems to take that as an invitation to move closer. Viktor puts his arm around him nervously. He doesn’t know what the hell is happening, so he just figures he’ll have an out of body experience and see where that takes him.

He almost jumps when Yuuri’s hand rests against his leg, and the warmth from his palm soaks through Viktor’s jeans and into his skin immediately. He desperately tries to sit still. But Yuuri is still leaning into him, and Viktor can’t help but lean back, and soon his face is nearly buried in Yuuri’s soft black hair. He smells so good, and Viktor fights not to tell him that. It would probably come off stupid and ruin the moment.

Yuuri’s hand is still on his leg. Viktor stares at it. His own hand seems to move without him as he gingerly places it on top. Yuuri’s hand twitches, but doesn’t move. Viktor can’t believe he’s gotten this far without fainting. He brushes his thumb across Yuuri’s hand, feeling him shiver, and when Yuuri moves his hand to intertwine their fingers, Viktor does his best not to scream. Yuuri’s hand is so soft against his, and he squeezes him lightly. Yuuri squeezes back.

Viktor actually does bury his face into Yuuri’s hair now, trying to breathe in his scent without coming across as sniffing him like a creep. Yuuri’s shiver runs from his scalp down his body, and he squeezes Viktor’s hand again. Yuuri tilts his head in a way that has Viktor nearly breathing in his ear now, and Viktor feels himself grow hot. It’s getting harder for him to sit still. He gasps into Yuuri’s ear when he feels his hand slip up his leg. It’s still locked with Viktor’s, and Viktor must have gone insane, because he guides their hands higher, and now they rest on Viktor’s thigh.

Viktor’s heart is beating so incredibly fast that he wonders how Yuuri can’t hear it. Or maybe he can, because he suddenly leans over to bury his face into Viktor's chest. _God,_ Viktor tries his best to stay calm, to sit still, but he twitches hard when their hands slip towards his inner thigh. He has to bite back a gasp that may have actually been a moan.

He looks down at Yuuri at the same time that Yuuri looks up at him. The eyes behind his glasses are still teasing, but there’s a shyness there that makes Viktor’s heart skip a beat. His hand is hot against his thigh, his scent is filling his nostrils, his eyes are piercing through his, freezing him in place. When Yuuri finally speaks, his voice is just the slightest bit husky, and Viktor bites back another gasp.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says softly, “I... I-”

“You have beautiful eyelashes,” Viktor blurts out, and Yuuri is so taken aback that he lets out a loud snort of laughter. Viktor is torn between being horrified and becoming hysterical. But he somehow finds himself laughing along with him.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.” He feels lighter somehow, and Yuuri’s laughter makes his heart soar.

“Well,” Yuuri pauses, teasing, and Viktor melts, “yes, but I,” he pauses again, blushing, “I, um... I really like you, Viktor.”

Viktor’s soaring heart is shot down, freezing in his chest. He has to be hallucinating. He’s going to wake up passed out on the floor in a puddle of his own tears, because Yuuri had abruptly left after his idiotic eyelash comment.

“I like you,” Yuuri says again, with more confidence, “and I feel like... well, we’ve been... seeing each other... so...” he trails off, blushing even harder. Viktor gapes at him. His silence seems to put Yuuri on edge, so he struggles for an answer.

“Yes! I-I mean, I like you, too. A lot. Really. Really a lot.”

Yuuri smiles at him so sweetly that Viktor feels like all his past sins have been pardoned. Viktor can’t keep his eyes from straying to his lips, and he sees Yuuri’s smile fade into something more subtle, and his lips part as he looks up at Viktor, his eyes half-lidded. Viktor leans closer, his hand coming up to cup Yuuri’s face, his thumb brushing his cheek. His face is so warm, hot and flushed, and Viktor can hear him start to breathe a little harder. Faster.

Yuuri bites his lip, and the hand still on Viktor’s inner thigh squeezes.

Their faces are so close that Viktor can feel their breath mingle, and he presses his forehead against his, taking a shuddering breath to steady himself. His hand slides down Yuuri’s face to cup his chin, and when he presses his thumb against Yuuri’s bottom lip, Yuuri gasps so softly that Viktor nearly weeps. He’s too perfect. Viktor doesn’t deserve him. He’s too terrified to close the fraction of a gap between their lips.

Yuuri does it for him, and when their lips meet, Viktor sees stars.

Yuuri’s lips are as soft and warm as the rest of him, and Viktor gasps into his mouth as he feels Yuuri’s fingers running through his hair. This has to be a dream. He’ll wake up alone again, empty and aching for him.

But Yuuri feels so real against him, and the wet heat he swallows has his head spinning, and the thumb still against Yuuri’s chin pushes down on his lip again, spreading him wider, deepening their kiss. Yuuri moans softly, and Viktor feels a jolt course through him. That sound should be illegal. No being on Earth should be able to make that noise. It just isn’t fair.

Viktor’s hands slide down to Yuuri’s waist, pulling him closer, squeezing him gently. Yuuri moans again, and Viktor shudders hard. He remembers that Yuuri isn’t a being of this Earth, of this plane of existence. He can make whatever the hell kind of noise he wants. And Viktor will do anything to hear it.

His hands slip under Yuuri’s shirt just as Yuuri’s tongue slips past his lips, and they gasp together, Yuuri wet and twisting in his mouth, Viktor’s fingers pressing, squeezing, digging into soft and heated skin.

As Yuuri tugs him closer by the hair, Viktor feels a tightness in his jeans that he fights to keep down. No, he can’t be hard already. The fact that he’s so absolutely pathetically smitten is enough to make him feel like an idiot. He doesn’t need to make things worse by coming in his pants. He’d die of embarrassment.

But he wants to die in Yuuri’s presence anyway. So that would be nothing new.

They break away, panting, and Viktor watches Yuuri lick his lips to break the wet string between them. The sight makes Viktor want to drool even more.

Yuuri’s flushed and breathing hard, and his eyes are so bright that they’re nearly blinding. Viktor feels like he’s flown too close to the sun, and can feel himself smoldering, crashing and burning. Burning for him.

“Yuuri,” he whispers, his voice thick, and the sound seems to make Yuuri blush harder. Viktor has never felt more pleased in his life.

He realizes that he doesn’t know what else to say. Just his name is enough. Viktor could repeat it until the day he dies.

“Um,” Yuuri says softly, and Viktor starts to tremble, “Viktor... I think... um, I really like you,” he repeats, and Viktor is stunned. Is this actually real?

“Do you- I mean, if you want,” Yuuri continues, growing more shy by the second, his face as red as the heart in Viktor’s chest, the one that beats for him and him alone. “Can we... be together? Like, maybe... officially?”

The awkward way he says it makes Viktor realize that he’s not the only one completely clueless about this, and it gives him the slight confident certainty he needs to even form a coherent sentence.

“Uh... officially?” Well. It’s half coherent, at least.

“Yes,” Yuuri whispers, “I want to be with you.”

When Viktor kisses him again, he hopes that it’s enough to convey what he’s too terrified to say.

_Yes._

Viktor’s lips stray to his jaw, trailing to his ear, and Yuuri shivers hard, gasping in a way that makes Viktor pause to compose himself.

“If you’d like for me to call you my boyfriend,” Viktor whispers in his ear suddenly, surprising the both of them, “then I’d be more than happy to. But there are other things I’d rather call you. My angel, my sun and stars, my muse, my world. But ‘boyfriend’ is alright, I guess.”

There’s a small silence as the both of them sit there, stunned. Oh god, what the hell had he just said? Where the fuck had that come from?

Yuuri pulls away to look at him, and his eyes are so full of life and love that Viktor feels his heart grow wings.

“I think that’s the smoothest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Viktor grins almost sheepishly, and when Yuuri smiles, his breath catches in his throat.

Yes, the smile that had launched a thousand ships. But Viktor’s had outdistanced them by a thousand miles.


	3. Bonus: A Second First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explicit chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT!  
> This is a sex scene. I know, scandalous. But I don't want to change the rating of this fic just for the sake of a bonus chapter. So this is the warning. Disclaimer. Whatever.
> 
> Anyways this is a bit overdue, but I've had my hands full with all the other millions of things I've suddenly been writing fhfhksfhg

Yuuri’s smile is polite and composed as Viktor rests his elbows on his desk, but there’s a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes that makes Viktor melt.

“Hello, handsome,” Viktor says suavely. He’d been practicing this line to himself in the mirror, and his effort has paid off, because he can see the tips of Yuuri’s ears growing red.

“Good evening, sir. Purchasing postage today?” The corner of Yuuri’s mouth is twitching slightly.

“Oh, _absolutely_. I have a very important package to deliver,” Viktor says, batting his lashes charmingly.

“Is that so?” Yuuri eyes his distinct lack of said package. Viktor is tempted to tell him to look lower.

“It’s me,” he says impatiently, spoiling the surprise. “I’m the package. It’s me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow, but Viktor can tell that he’s fighting back laughter. He wants to continue his little act, but he can hear the grumbling middle-aged man behind him start to sound twice as grumbly. Alright, time for the Grand Finale.

He pulls out a small parcel from the pocket of his trench coat. It’s for Yakov. There’s something in it. Of that, he is mostly sure.

But it’s a ruse, a facade, and now Viktor pulls out the real reason he’s come. A small card. He slides it to Yuuri as he rings up the postage for the parcel. Yuuri eyes it suspiciously, then cautiously opens it as Viktor pays. His sharp snort of laughter is the most beautiful thing Viktor has ever heard.

“Viktor, this is an invitation.”

“Yes.”

“To your apartment. For dinner.”

“Yes.”

Yuuri hands him his receipt, and when their fingers brush, Viktor feels blessed. He feels blessed any time this angel touches his undeserving skin.

“In the 21st century, we use phones to invite people over for dinner.”

“This isn’t just _any_ dinner, Yuuri! Look at the date.”

Yuuri looks at the card again. His face softens into something that Viktor doesn’t feel worthy of witnessing.

“Our four month? Oh, Viktor…” he trails off, starting to blush.

Viktor feels a familiar panic begin to creep over him. Yuuri’s eyes are shining. Viktor’s forehead must be shining, because he feels himself start to sweat.

“Yes, uh, four months, yeah, so… don’t expect a ring. But I’m afraid you’ll have to put out. I don’t make the rules, darling. Bye!”

Yuuri is nearly in tears as he leaves, hardly able to choke out “next!” through his giggling.

*

Two days later, an angel visits Viktor's apartment.

A very tipsy angel.

Yuuri had looked so divine when he'd walked in that Viktor had nearly dropped to his knees. The fabric of his nice button down shirt had felt so soft under Viktor's fingers as he held him close. He had managed not to yank him through the door by his tie as he pulled him in for a kiss. Yuuri had smelled absolutely delicious, and he still does, and he smells just as good as their dinner had. A dinner that's long gone. Viktor had taken one bite of the homemade pirozhki Yuuri had brought, and had immediately asked him if this was what the gods ate. Yuuri's laughter had been as sweet as the wine they had toasted with.

They're on their fourth toast--one for each month, of course. Or maybe it's their seventh. Future months. Maybe. Viktor is hopeful.

Yuuri is beautifully flushed, a red that deepens in his cheeks and travels down, down to the chest exposed by his slightly unbuttoned shirt. Viktor has to look away, or he'll faint. Or cry. Most likely both.

"To four months!" Yuuri says, raising his glass with a sort of dopey grin. Viktor grins back a little slyly.

"To post offices!" he returns, and when Yuuri snorts into his wine, Viktor feels a warmth that's far too hot for his skin to handle. He wonders if he'll combust. Self-immolation is the proper way to sacrifice oneself to a god, right?

"To Yakov," Yuuri says, still trying to stifle his giggling, "and to all the useless things you've sent him!"

"They were _not_ useless!" Viktor protests, although he knows they really were. Mostly. He's certain that Yakov had at least used the toilet paper. And the last time they had FaceTimed, Viktor had sworn he'd seen the framed and autographed photo of himself sitting on one of his shelves.

"Fine," Yuuri amends, and he looks around the apartment as though trying to figure out what to toast to instead. "To... chocolate!"

"Yes," Viktor says very gratefully, "to chocolate. Thank you, Yuuri."

Yes, a toast to chocolate. They had gone through half of the large box Yuuri had brought for them, and in their tipsy stupor, Viktor had nearly forgotten about it. It's on the floor. They are also on the floor. They were supposed to have watched one of their favorite movies, but had quickly ended up on the soft rug, leaning against the sofa while they drank and spoke. Viktor had to keep Makkachin in his room as they opened the lovely heart-shaped box. Chocolate is bad for dogs, and Makkachin also has the tendency to almost choke on things.

Yuuri reaches for another piece, leaning heavily against Viktor as he does, and Viktor nearly dies, because Yuuri smells as intoxicating as the wine that sloshes onto his lap.

"Sorry!" Yuuri grabs up a napkin from the coffee table, but Viktor quickly sees where _that's_ heading, and he takes it from Yuuri before he can cheerfully shove his hand into his crotch, thanking him weakly and trying his best not to pass out. Yuuri doesn't seem to notice.

He pops the bit of chocolate into his mouth, and for a moment he looks so satisfied that Viktor looks away quickly. Oh _God,_ that _face._ Viktor wants to see him make it again. He has to keep looking away as Yuuri licks his fingers.

Viktor reaches blindly for another piece of chocolate, and when he shoves it into his mouth, he nearly gags, swallowing it hard and sticking out his tongue afterward.

"Ugh, _white chocolate._ "

"What?" Yuuri frowns at him. "White chocolate is delicious!"

"Did you know," Viktor begins very seriously, "that white chocolate isn't rea-"

"Isn't really chocolate, yes, I know." Yuuri sounds a little exasperated. Probably because they've had this conversation at least ten times. Argument? Is this their first couple's argument? The closest they had ever gotten to arguing was them fighting to pay the bill whenever they ate out somewhere. Viktor is _thrilled_. Is he supposed to be this thrilled about their first argument? Is this what relationships do to people? Make them weep at the thought of passive aggressive silence and sullen glares over whether or not white chocolate is indeed chocolate? Relationships are stupid, but Viktor is also stupid, so he accepts this.

"It's the worst," Viktor says in a weak attempt to prolong the argument. He wonders if this makes him a terrible person.

But Yuuri only smiles, leaning towards him slowly, and Viktor feels his heart start to pound faster. He can feel Yuuri's breath against his skin.

"I don't know," Yuuri says softly, "I kind of really like the way it tastes."

His kiss is just as soft, slow and deliberate, searching and tasting Viktor's lips, and Viktor has to set aside his glass quickly as Yuuri presses closer. Viktor pulls him in tighter, squeezing his waist and feeling him gasp softly into his mouth. Yuuri sucks slightly at his bottom lip as he pulls away, and when he licks his lips with that same satisfied look, Viktor tries everything in his power not to leap up and run to the nearest bathroom for a very long and very cold shower.

"I think I need more convincing," he blurts, and Yuuri laughs as he leans in again for another kiss. He pauses before their lips meet, and suddenly Viktor feels something small and melting pressed against his. He scowls, but Yuuri pushes the white chocolate gently into his mouth, and Viktor lets it melt on his tongue. Yuuri's finger lingers in his mouth, so Viktor sucks on it lightly, and Yuuri gasps in a way that makes Viktor's head spin.

Yuuri's finger is quickly replaced by his lips, and Viktor groans when he feels Yuuri shift, swinging a leg over him to straddle him. The two of them taste sickeningly sweet, but Viktor loves it. Maybe white chocolate isn't so bad after all. He pulls away suddenly, blinking at him.

"Yuuri, am _I_ the white chocolate? Isn't that kind of rac-"

He's silenced by laughing lips, and his own smile curves against them. He squeezes him harder, his hands starting to slip under his shirt. Yuuri's skin is on fire, and Viktor wonders if they'll both combust at the same time. How romantic.

Yuuri starts to lower himself fully into Viktor's lap, but Viktor yelps into his mouth, gripping his waist tighter to stop him. He doesn't want Yuuri to know how desperately hard he is. He'd probably come if Yuuri so much as breathed in the general direction of his pants. No, he can't let Yuuri know.

They had been trying to take things slow. Neither of them really knew why. Maybe they weren't ready. Maybe they were waiting for The Moment. Maybe they were both just very awkward and neither knew how to ask the other if they would care for a fucking.

Oh, but he would. But he can't let Yuuri know that.

Yuuri makes a small and frustrated noise against his lips, wiggling his hips impatiently. His tongue slides against his, pulling it into his own mouth to suck the white chocolate off it slowly, teasingly, and Viktor's grip slackens, his eyes almost rolling back as Yuuri happily plops down into his lap.

They both gasp, freezing.

Viktor is hard. And so is Yuuri.

This isn't the first time they've ever gotten a bit hot and heavy, but it's definitely the first time Viktor has ever had a very horny Yuuri in his lap. He feels his soul leave his body. He doesn't know where it's going, but he knows he doesn't need it anymore.

Yuuri is heated and pressed hard on top of him, and when Viktor's fingers dig into his waist without thinking, he feels him twitch against him. Viktor almost sobs.

"Um," Yuuri says quietly, and Viktor can hear a growing urgency in his voice, "Viktor, I... we... I mean, I want-"

"You're drunk," Viktor blurts, trying very hard not to dissolve into hysterical weeping, because Yuuri's face is the reddest Viktor has ever seen it. His eyes are coy and clouded behind his glasses, and Viktor has to look away again.

"I'm not! I'm not," he says again, looking very serious as Viktor shoots him a look. "Listen, I downed three bottles of champagne once at my sister's wedding, and all I did was get a little naked. I'm fine." He pauses, frowning down at him slightly. "Are _you_ fine?"

Viktor is most definitely not fine. He isn't drunk, but he isn't fine, because he feels like he's on the brink of death, waiting in line to ascend into the afterlife. He must have died. There's no way he's alive, no way Yuuri's looking at him like _that._

"I'm fine," he says, his voice high and cracking. Yuuri grins at him, brushing aside his silver bangs, his fingers lingering against his cheek. His smile softens.

"Viktor. I want you."

Oh, God.

"What do you mean?"

Yuuri presses closer. His cheeks are red but his eyes burn with determination.

"I want you to fuck me."

_OH, GOD._

Viktor's mouth hangs open, but he's only screaming on the inside, _thankfully._ Yuuri starts to look a little worried.

"Viktor? Are you okay?"

"I," Viktor starts, but he hadn't thought he'd get this far into coherency, so he has no idea what to say next. Yuuri's hand moves to cup his face. The other starts to unbutton his own shirt, but he pauses.

"Um. Of course, if you don't want to, that's totally fi-"

"No!" Viktor nearly shouts, almost startling Yuuri off his lap. "I mean, yes! Um. Yes."

Yuuri looks relieved. This expression is slowly replaced by something that Viktor doesn't want to figure out, because the answer will surely kill him. Yuuri brings his lips to his ear.

"Take me to your room?"

Viktor will take this man to the moon, or wherever the hell he's ever wanted to go. He grabs him as he rises, and Yuuri wraps his legs around his waist as they stumble off. Viktor almost collapses halfway there as he feels Yuuri's lips pressing against his neck. No, he has to _focus._

Makkachin bolts out the minute the door opens, and Viktor quickly closes it before he changes his mind. Makkachin likes to sleep beside them whenever Yuuri stays the night, but Viktor wouldn't know how to explain to him that they don't intend to sleep this time.

He tries to lay Yuuri down on the bed as gently as he can, but Yuuri's arms around his neck tighten, and Viktor yelps as he's yanked down with him. Their lips meet, and Viktor starts to tremble. His hands begin to move, feeling more free than they ever have before, and suddenly he's gripping and squeezing every inch of Yuuri's body he can reach. He's so good, so soft, so warm. He wraps his hands around his waist, because Yuuri seems to really like that. Sure enough, he gasps sharply, melting just as easily as the chocolate had.

"Do you like that?" Viktor asks softly as he pulls away, and Yuuri shivers at the sound of his voice. Viktor feels a disproportionate level of satisfaction at this. 

"Yes," Yuuri breathes. He suddenly looks very shy, and he can't quite meet Viktor's gaze. "I-I... I like your hands. They're... big."

Viktor stares. Big?

"Yes," he says very slowly, "I guess they are."

"They're big," Yuuri blurts, his face burning, "and they're strong. They make me feel, um... small. I like it. A lot."

Viktor's brain has clocked out. If Yuuri is trying to tell him that he has some sort of size kink, Viktor is ready to get back up and casually walk outside to lay down in the middle of oncoming traffic, because the idea of Yuuri wanting him to crush him with his massive shoulders _or something_ is just too much for him to handle.

Yuuri tangles his fingers in Viktor's hair, bringing him in for another kiss, and Viktor feels his body moving without him. He squeezes Yuuri's waist so hard that Yuuri cries out into his mouth, and it makes Viktor so weak that he collapses on top of him, their bodies now pressed tight.

Their cocks grind together through their pants, and Viktor has to do everything he can not to either cry or come. Yuuri is hard. Yuuri is hard for _him._

"Viktor," Yuuri pulls back, looking into his eyes with the same urgency he had before, "please. I need you. Please?"

Yuuri is begging him.

Oh, _God._

He rises to unbutton his shirt, and Yuuri's eyes roam over his chest and abs so hungrily that Viktor starts to shake. Those eyes should be illegal. How the hell is he supposed to do anything under a gaze like that?

Yuuri's hands start to work on his own buttons, but Viktor pushes them aside gently, stripping Yuuri himself. The shirt falls open, and Viktor takes a moment to drink in the sight. This is far from the first time he's ever seen Yuuri shirtless. But he stops and stares every single time.

Yuuri fidgets underneath him, and Viktor snaps out of it. He unbuttons Yuuri's pants with trembling hands. The zipper catches, and he has to try again a couple times, his panic mounting. If he's about to get cock-blocked by a fucking zipper, he's setting himself on fire. But he gets it on his third try, and he slips off the pants but freezes as his fingers grip the waistband of his briefs. He can see the perfect bulge and outline of Yuuri's cock straining beneath the fabric. His hands tremble harder.

_Do something._

He leans forward without thinking to pull the briefs down with his teeth, but Yuuri yelps sharply and winces. Viktor's head snaps back up.

"I'm sorry! Did I bite you? Yuuri, I'm so sorry!"

Yuuri laughs weakly, as though his boyfriend hadn't almost bitten off his dick. This man is a saint.

"Um, just a little nip. It startled me more than it actually hurt, I swear!"

Viktor nods, and uses his his hands this time, because he's not a _goddamned barbarian_ and really should know how to remove someone's underwear sexily at this point in his life. He takes a small moment to mourn his once-suave and composed self, stealing men's hearts. And their pants. Yuuri has turned him into a damned fool, but he's loving every second of it.

He tries not to choke as Yuuri's cock is freed from his briefs. They'd changed in front of each other before, but this is different. So different. Yuuri is thick and red, and for a moment Viktor is frozen and terrified. He wants it. But he's terrified. He looks back up to see Yuuri watching. Yuuri must sense his uncertainty, because he leans back against the pillows, squirming and panting.

"Please," he begs him, and Viktor nearly blacks out as he dips his head.

Yuuri is sweeter than any chocolate he's ever tasted, and the cry torn from his lips has Viktor tingling all over, shivering as he takes Yuuri fully into his mouth. Viktor's always been proud of his deepthroating skills, but Yuuri is nearly pushing his limits. He fills his mouth completely, and Viktor opens his throat for him as he starts to thrust his hips.

Viktor draws him out, taking him back in again slowly, over and over, lips tight and tongue working, and Yuuri is a moaning and mewling mess beneath him, his thighs trembling already, his breath hitching. Viktor pauses. Is Yuuri close? He pulls away, and Yuuri groans in frustration. Viktor stares at him.

"I. Um. I don't want you to come yet. Okay?"

Yuuri blinks. Then he nearly snorts. Viktor wonders if his honor is being insulted.

"Viktor, you can't suck the life out of me and then look so meek! You can, um," he pauses, and suddenly he's the one looking meek, the teasing smile gone, "I mean... you can... tell me what to do? You know, like..." he trails off nervously.

Viktor gapes, and he wonders how he's even alive right now, because Yuuri is _asking to be dominated,_ and Viktor's brain has shut down.

"Only if you want," Yuuri says quickly, looking away. "I just... I kind of like it?"

"Right," Viktor says slowly, dazed. Come on, he tells himself sternly, you can do this, you've played harder roles than this.

He reaches down with a hand that's almost not-trembling, and when he brushes his thumb across Yuuri's lips, he tries not to shiver. Yuuri is looking up at him, wide-eyed with anticipation.

"Don't move," Viktor says softly. Yuuri obeys, watching him slide off the bed to rummage through his drawers.

Viktor had fucking better have lube. He can just imagine having to fuck off to Walgreens or something while Yuuri inevitably grows bored and decides to leave the country. Viktor would have to lie in traffic again. While setting himself on fire. But he finally finds it, and he squeezes out of his own pants and briefs. Yuuri stares at his cock, his eyes growing wider. Viktor hopes that this is a good thing.

He scrambles back onto the bed in a way that he hopes is totally sexy and not at all desperate, and he grips Yuuri's thighs now, spreading them open as he pulls him closer. He can see Yuuri's chest rise and fall faster as he starts to breath harder. Viktor tries to remain on Earth. Or whatever heavenly realm he's been transported to.

His eyes don't leave Yuuri's as he pops the cap open, lubing his fingers and rubbing them slowly. Yuuri breathes faster. Viktor leans forward to catch his trembling lips with his own, catching his gasp as well when his fingers press against his rim. They slide slowly around it, then Viktor slips one in slowly. Yuuri clenches hard, whimpering, and Viktor kisses him gently, taking his time, letting him adjust, then slipping in a second finger, then a third. Yuuri is shaking hard, but Viktor can feel his muscles relax just a bit, and he withdraws now, pulling back. Yuuri licks his lips and swallows as he watches Viktor lube his cock, and it's everything Viktor can do not to come right then and there. Everything Yuuri does is just _unfair._

He slowly presses himself forward, and their eyes lock again. Viktor guides his cock carefully, and Yuuri shudders as he feels the head enter him. Viktor reaches for his face now, kissing him as he slowly rocks his hips, pushing deeper. Yuuri is groaning, panting, arms tight around Viktor's shoulders as he's filled.

"Are you okay?" Viktor asks him nervously. Yuuri's eyes shine as he looks up at him, and Viktor really hopes that they aren't both about to cry right now.

"Yes." Quiet and simple. Yes, Yuuri is okay. He's okay.

Viktor fills him completely now, pausing a moment to take shaking breaths. He needs to calm himself. Yuuri is so deliciously hot and tight around him. Don't come. _Don't come._  

But Yuuri is so perfect. He looks absolutely divine, ethereal, otherworldly, spread underneath him, opened wide for him, slid onto him and trembling, whimpering, waiting. Viktor suddenly doesn't know what to do. He has to move. But he can't. All he can do is stare. Yuuri notices, starting to look concerned.

"Viktor?"

"I don't deserve you."

Yuuri stares at him in shock. Viktor would stare at himself too, because that had been a stupid thing to say in the middle of them about to fuck. He feels his vision start to blur and waver.

"I don't deserve you," he says again, trying to keep his voice steady. "You're too good. Too perfect. I don't know how this happened, but I know that you're too good for me."

Yuuri's face softens. He brings his hands to cup Viktor's face, and Viktor blinks, startled to see his tears drip onto Yuuri's cheeks. He wipes them away quickly with a thumb, realizing too late that his hand is covered in lube. He opens his mouth to apologize, but Yuuri kisses him, and that's the end of that. But it isn't the end of his tears, and he feels them fall faster, and it isn't _fair,_ because he's supposed to be rocking Yuuri's world right now, but instead Yuuri is rocking his cradle, because he's being a fucking baby right now. Unfair. Why is he like this?

Yuuri pulls away to kiss at his tears. He doesn't look disappointed or embarrassed. He's smiling at him gently. The smile of an angel.

"You look like an angel," Viktor blurts, and to his massive shock, Yuuri presses a finger against his lips to shut him up.

"You really shouldn't do that."

Viktor is absolutely mind blown. 

"Huh?" he asks eloquently.

"You don't have to put me on a pedestal. I'm not perfect. I'm not an angel. I'm a person, just like you. And I'm scared, just like you. I, um," he looks away, seemingly losing his confident stride, "I don't really know what I'm doing, either. I mean, I know what I'm _doing,_ but it's different now. It's different because it's _you._ "

"Me?" Viktor asks faintly. "Because it's me?"

But he understands. Viktor understands, because it's different. It's different because it's Yuuri.

"I just don't want to screw things up," he says in a jumbled mess, before Yuuri can answer. "I'm so incredibly lucky to have you and your perfect nose and your lovely eyelashes and your insatiable lust for white chocolate and if I fuck up, I lose all of that, and I can't let that happen because you're exquisite, I would go to war for you, I would-"

Yuuri presses his finger again, the familiar exasperated look replacing his concern.

"Pedestal," he reminds him. Viktor swallows hard.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, Viktor, it's alright. Just... you're being a little dramatic, you know? I'm not that special."

"You are," Viktor says stubbornly, and the two of them just sort of stare at each other.

"Is this our first real fight?" Viktor asks, trying not to sound too pleased. "Is our first fight happening while I'm nearly balls-deep inside of you, weeping like a swollen baby over how perfectly shaped your eyebrows are? Is this what's happening? Because-"

"I love you," Yuuri cuts him off, and they both freeze.

There's a silence that seems to last forever.

"You?" Viktor says, and that's about all his brain has come up with.

"Me," Yuuri answers hesitantly, seeming to understand.

They stare.

"Oh. My God," Viktor says, starting to panic, "Yuuri, I-I mean, you?"

"Yes," Yuuri says, "me. I love you." He blushes hard but doesn't look away.

Viktor buries his face into his neck, muffling his sobbing. Yuuri pats his back awkwardly.

"I love you, too! I love you, Yuuri! Sorry," he adds as Yuuri winces. He should probably not scream into his ear.

But he hears Yuuri laugh softly, and when he pulls back to look down at him, Yuuri is absolutely breathtaking. But Viktor won't tell him that, because he'd probably start crying again. 

He's suddenly very aware that he's still inside of Yuuri. He's still mostly hard, and so is Yuuri. It's good to know that Viktor's tears and general stupidity aren't mood killers. He's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

Yuuri pulls him back down slowly, and when their lips meet again, the heated urgency between their bodies returns in an instant, and Viktor withdraws himself slowly to push back in. Yuuri gasps every time he does, and soon enough he melts around him, moaning and arcing his back. Viktor buries his face into his neck again, kissing it, biting it, sucking it gently, breathing in his ear. Yuuri cries out as he thrusts faster into him.

Viktor bites harder to muffle his own cries, because Yuuri is so absolutely sweet wrapped around him, and he's taking every inch of him so perfectly that Viktor feels himself close already. His teeth sink down harder, and Yuuri screams.

"Sorry!"

"N-no, do it again! _Oh!_ "

Yuuri screams again as Viktor bites his neck, his hips jerking steadily, faster, harder, and Yuuri starts to claw at his shoulders as Viktor grips his waist now, squeezing him just the way he likes it. He rises, holding him tight and thrusting into him faster. Yuuri's eyes roll back as he covers his mouth to muffle his screaming, and Viktor takes a deep breath. Don't come. _Don't come._

But Yuuri sounds as good as he feels, and when Viktor's slick fingers slide up and down his cock, Yuuri jerks and cries out.

"Viktor! O-oh God, _please!_ "

Please, Viktor thinks frantically as he starts to pump him, he's begging me. Oh, _GOD._

"Are you going to come for me, Yuuri?" Viktor whispers, and he can feel the hard shudder pass through him.

"Yes!" Yuuri sobs, spreading wider for him, bucking himself into his hand frantically. Viktor tightens his grip around his cock, and his grip around his waist tightens as well, nails digging into Yuuri's skin. Viktor fucks him harder, hearing the bed creak, and this sends Yuuri over the edge.

"Viktor!" he screams, throwing his head back, and the feel of cum dripping through his fingers is too much for Viktor to handle. Yuuri looks up at him with that utterly satisfied look, and Viktor jerks forward to suck his lips as he comes hard inside of him.

Yuuri lets out a low moan, his arms wrapping around Viktor slowly. Viktor pants over him, gasping, shaking, sinking down into him and pressing his lips against his neck over and over. He feels Yuuri do the same.

He pulls Yuuri closer, sighing deeply. They roll over, and Viktor buries his face into soft and feathery hair, damp and smelling of chocolate and Yuuri.

Yuuri makes a small noise and wriggles closer, though Viktor isn't aware that there's even any space left between them.

"Um. That was really great." Yuuri says this very awkwardly, but Viktor is currently having a heart attack, because to hear such a perfect angel say that his dick had been 'really great' is nothing short of it being pronounced a Miracle by the Vatican. Viktor's dick is now Blessed.

He accidentally tells Yuuri this, and the two of them dissolve into a fit of laughter.

"You're so weird, Viktor," Yuuri says, his smile fond and his eyes shining. Viktor's face softens, and he brings up a thumb to brush the corner of Yuuri's mouth.

"Did you know that I would die for that smile? I thought that the very first day we met."

Yuuri blushes hard, but his smiles grows wider, and Viktor grows weaker. Viktor wants to apologize. Apologize for not being good enough. He holds back, but Yuuri can see it in his eyes. He turns his head to kiss the fingers now caressing his cheek.

"Viktor, I could search the whole world. Nobody is better than you."

Viktor tries not to cry again as they kiss. He doesn't have to search the whole world to know that nobody is better than Yuuri. He already has. His ship had sailed the seven seas, lost and sinking, and it wasn't until he'd run ashore of something he'd never known before that he'd dropped to his knees to kiss the ground at Yuuri's feet.

Land, sweet land.


End file.
